


Moments

by KRiley



Series: Iron Born [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Typical, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of ADD, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Therapy, Mentions of Violence, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Sort Of, Time Travel, mostly about Morgan and Tony, the others more so mentioned in passing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 13:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19993228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KRiley/pseuds/KRiley
Summary: She remembers her life in moments, instances, but she's struggling to remember her own father.





	Moments

**Author's Note:**

> Writing about Morgan Stark again! Am I projecting? Most likely. Would I love a review/comment/kudo? Most definitely! <3

The thing was, being a child prodigy wasn't fun. Sure, people praised you constantly, but for Morgan the sword had a sharper double edge than most. Because how could you see the child of one Tony Stark tinker with a circuit board at the age of 6 and not make a remark about how proud he would have been, how much you look like him, isn't that right little genius? They were always so sure, so absolutely certain; you were going to do great things, like your father before you. They were right up to a point. She was a lot like her father. Definitely looked like him physically, more so than her mother, though her brain had seemed to have taken on some of the lesser traits her father had exhibited as well. The ADD was a challenge, brain never resting long enough on one subject, constantly jumping from thought to impulse to idea and back again, skipping over and through, never a moments rest. The hyper fixation came in handy sometimes, although the period she had spent desperately breaking into every security feed around the world she could think of with the help of Friday, scouring every second of video and audio footage for a glimpse, a smidge of information about her father. She had seen it all, would watch her favourites repeatedly. Her mom and dad, smiling at home in Malibu. Imagining that's what could have been, right now, them down the stairs, just a short skip away, waiting to have dinner together. Those were good moments. She liked those tapes the best, the footage she could fool herself into believing was her reality. Even if just for a moment.

Moments. She remembers her life in instances. They should have known, she sometimes thinks. Could have guessed this is where she would end up. He'd known, even if he only knew her for 4 years. Inevitable. She hated that word more and more, knowing it's what the Titan had called himself. Strange had once tried to talk to her, had said the same thing. Inevitable. One chance. One reality in which they win. _They_. Not _her_.

Morgan remembers the first moment she found definite proof she wasn't what people made her out to be, wasn't worthy of being her father’s legacy. Wasn't _good_ , not like he had been. Because she hated them, hated the world for a while, because her father had cared more about everyone else than her. Had chosen the world over being with her and her mother. What kind of person does that? Some days, she'd walk down the street, her mind a constant parade as she oversaw the scrawl of people that inhabited New York, wondering; _Did he save you? Were you gone and only brought back for him to die?_

Moments.

The moment she had broken through all the security, all the encryption her father had put up to hide the plans and schematics of the reactors and his suits. There were biometric scans, a lot easier to hack of you had half the DNA of the man himself, but the countless other layers and red herrings had taken her a while. Hours upon hours spend in his labs, sifting through the AI histories. Her own versions of the thrusters strapped to her hands and legs, she remembers failing to make them work and attacking the encryptions again and again, trying to find the one line of code she needed to recreate it. In the end she never made a full suit. Attempts were abandoned in the corner of the lab, left to collect dust after being broken apart almost as meticulously as she had assembled them before. The last line of defence. He'd known.

_Before you continue,_

It had started, and she remembers being at the lake house, tears blurring her vision as she watched a projection of her father make his last goodbyes. No projection this time though. Just text, light blue words projected on the holoscreen in front of her, but she heard and saw him clearer than she had in years.

_Before you continue, I want to ask you to reconsider._

_If you're reading this, I have no doubt you have earned your way to these plans. You're smart, and if we're all lucky, a whole lot more responsible than I ever was. The suits, Iron Man, they gave me a second chance at life, they gave me the opportunity to do something good, and I hope I have. I hope, despite my faults, my wrongdoings, I left the world a better place. For you, for your mother. You deserve it. You deserve everything, and if reading this, means I’m not there to help you get it, I want you to go out and make it so. Think of your mother though. I've made her worry enough in our lifetime, so take it easy on her._

_What I really want to say is, if you're reading this, if I haven't given you these plans myself already, maybe there's a reason for it? Maybe I think you deserve better than this as well, better than getting hurt over and over again, better than having to carry the weight of the world, better than being trapped by the shadow of your old man hanging over you. I know what that's like, and I don't wish it upon you. I needed Iron Man to get a second chance at life, but you are so much better than me. You don't need that silly tin can. You are perfectly enough, just as you are. I won't stop you from going on, no more encryptions, no more secrets or trapdoors. But I hope you listen to your old man, one last time._

_I love you 3000, and way beyond._

And thus, she abandoned her suits, her tinkering. She caught the concerned looks of her mother when she stopped spending so much time in the labs, but still seemed to withdraw more and more into herself. Watched endless reruns of footage of her dad flying a nuke up into a hole in the sky, the Malibu house exploding over and over again, the iron man suit, clattering down in the workshop, riddled with bullet holes, her father stumble out of its release, splotches of blood only just recognizable on the feed. Watched them, felt like her eyes were drawn more and more to each speckle of blood she could see; zooming in until the screen was no more than grainy pixels.

Moments.

The moment she snapped, pulled together every plan that had nothing to do with his suits, broke in where she needed, recklessly slamming her way into secure locations, stealing what she needed. She just wanted him back.

They should have known.

She travelled back in time, didn't know what she was doing, just a vague location and time, had barely enough particles for one return trip, and pressed the button.

Slammed into the concrete in front of Riri Williams house, cursing herself and knocking frantically on the door until the young girl opened it as far as the chain allowed. Gasped out breathlessly: "I need to borrow your suit."

Iron heart, or soon to be, miracle of miracles, agreed to lend her the prototype. Morgan doesn't know why, but she was grateful all the same. She gave Riri a salute, powered up the thrusters and zipped off, hurtling through the sky, clamouring to get to the gathering storm clouds above the Avengers Compound.

Moments.

It was moments too late.

She managed to figure out time travel, and still managed to be late.

She landed amid the carnage, desperate looking around. Please no. No, not again, she needed to save him, she had waited years and years and now...

It was like time slowed down, like the particles had infused herself into her blood, and as punishment for stealing them in the first place, now made her watch as her father sacrificed himself. The stones settling, crawling up his arms as their poison spread through his body before he'd so much as brought his fingers together, back arching as they slotted into place. She had failed. She had failed to stop him from saving the world. And as his fingers clicked together in a shockwave that seemed to resound through the universe, Morgan clattered to her knees with a wail, hair whipping around her face as everything seemed to freeze around her, the carnage at an end, dust picked up by the air, blowing into her eyes, blinding her, white flashes and then-

She blinked her eyes open, but the red haze that seemed to surround her didn't abate. For a second she wondered if she'd accidently used the remaining particles to transport herself to some unknown plane, but then she saw him. She stumbled forward, hand shaking as it reached out. Her father, unharmed, wearing a soft sweater, no suit, no armour, just Dad. Hair greying, laugh lines at the side of his eyes as his wondering gaze took her in.

The moment he said her name.

"Morgan?"

It had been... So long since he'd said her name. He looked her up and down.

"Where are we?" She whispered, blinking repeatedly.

Her father looked around as if only just realising he was no longer among the ravages of the avengers compound.

"We're... This is the Soul Stone I believe." He was looking at his hand, his bare, undamaged hand, stretching his fingers as if not quite certain they would work, before lifting his gaze back to her.

"It's not my suit." She managed to say when she saw his eyes linger on the pieces of armour still encasing her. 

He smiled. She'd forgotten his smile.

"That's okay."

A strangled sob caught in her throat, she stepped closer to him, suddenly within arm’s reach as she threw herself around his neck.

"Oh, Morgan."

She had forgotten how good his hugs felt. Sunk into him, sobbing.

He let her, holding on tight, hand rubbing soothing circles over her back. Like he used to, she now remembered. So many years obsessing over learning every detail about her father, desperate to remember, and she had still managed to forget so much.

"I'm sorry." She managed to hiccup out in between sobs.

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" He pulled her back wiped the tears from her face, looked at her, kind dark brown eyes smiling down at her. "What could you possibly be sorry for?"

"I was too late!" She bit her lip, trying to control her breathing enough to get out the words. " I was going to save you and I was too late, and I was angry at you for so long, because you chose everyone else over me, and I hated that, even though I know it was the right thing, and I'm sorry for not being good and..."

He stopped her.

"Morgan, no. Honey, never." Her Dad shook his head. "I would never choose anyone over you. I knew this was a possibility, and I did it anyway. I did choose you Morgan, because you deserve to live in a happier world, a complete universe. You deserve anything and everyone this life can give you, and if this is what that took, I am glad I could give you that, even more grateful that I get to see you before... Before I go. I mean,"

He sighed, happily, tears gathering in his eyes. "Look at you, Morgan Stark. You wonderful human you. You found me! Through time and space, you found me. You are incredible, and you will do great things. You are the best of me Morgan, and I am so proud."

Moments.

She had gotten moments with her father. Only snippets of memory. She could feel the pull, the red haze of the Soul Stone fading, the panic welling within her simultaneously as she scrambled. More, she needed more, just another moment, just another minute, second, anything.

It was no use. She felt him fading. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I love you kid."

"3000." She said, voice shaking.

"And so much more."

It must have been no more than moments that she had spent in the soul stone with her father. When she returned, to earth, to her body, wherever she was now, no longer with her father, she saw from a distance; her father, crumpled against a wreckage, her mother sobbing into his shoulder, Peter and Uncle Rhodey a few steps away, and one by one, the survivors took a knee, heads bowed in acknowledgement to the sacrifice her father made. Watched them go down, one by one, Clint, Valkyrie, Steve, more so collapsing than anything else. Gods and kings and sorcerers and heroes. All alive, because her father had chosen her.

Moments.

For a few moments she contemplated storming forward, rushing over to her father’s body, shaking him, demanding more time. It took everything in her to stagger the other way, turning her back, making her way back to the house she'd crashed in front of mere hours before. She had promised to return the suit after all.

Moments.

She doesn't remember the moments after she arrived back, falling to the floor of the lab, probably no more than seconds after she had zapped away. Her mother must still be at work. She dragged herself up the stairs, crawling into bed.

She slept. For hours.

When she woke up, she felt exhausted still, like the inside of her head and chest were all bruise. Maybe that just came with the time travel. She wasn't planning on trying it again.

She had spent years hating most of the heroes her father had worked with, Peter and Uncle Rhodey the sole exceptions. Her mother had never forced their company on her, always giving her ample time of warning and a way to get out of meeting them if they were coming over. She decided it was time for an explanation. She went down the line, visited them one by one, explaining, in quite simple and blunt terms (she was her father's daughter after all) why she'd avoided them all these years, explained she was angry and hurt, and she was sorry for blaming them for a choice her father made himself. And could they maybe, please, tell her about him? She wants to know him like they did.

She stays over for dinner at Clint's sometimes. Laura misses having young people in the house now that both her kids have been off to college for a while.

Sam and Bucky, sharing an apartment, walk with her through parks, take her on runs, and help her work out her anger on a punching bag rather than her own head on the days where the anger flares.

Bruce helps her investigate her own nook of obscure science, she's thinking of going into medicine, and Bruce is her staunchest supporter.

Thor shows her the universe in brief but thrilling stints that always leave her mother frowning when she stumbles out of the spaceship slightly worse for wear.

It took her the longest to get around to Steve. They walk through museums together, sometimes she'll casually point out pieces her family owns or donated, and he'll talk to her about art, and her father. How they clashed, how they got along. How much he learned from him. They both talk about what they miss most about him.

She decides to talk to a professional. Superheroes they may be, but the therapist she ends up settling on, in a crappy little office at the furthest corner of Manhattan, helps her more than she expected to be possible.

Moments.

Healing, turns out, isn't going into a treatment and walking out on the other side all good, and shiny, it's learning how to deal, moment by moment. Working through the pain in healthier ways and taking a moment every now and again to ask yourself, genuinely, how you're doing, what do you need?

Morgan doesn't know of she'll ever have children. If she does, though, she knows she will love them best she knows how, the way her father and mother taught her.

She reminds people of her father. She's learning more and more that it's okay if she's just herself instead.


End file.
